Human Velvet
by Bent137
Summary: Rory Gilmore dreams of a certain Transgenic hottie on a certain TV Show, and how he can rock her world. : [Crossover with Dark Angel] : [Adult Situations] : [OneShot]


Title: Human Velvet  
Author: Bent137  
Rating: NC-17  
Improv: revive, velvet, verve, revolve, vivid  
Disclaimer: Gilmore Girls is not mine, neither is Dark Angel, this sick and twisted little idea though is a by product of my subconcious.  
Author's Notes: This fic is a crossover between Dark Angel and Gilmore Girls, but you may be surprised by it. But it's still a crossover though, because I said so. I had one for those two shows in mind for over a year, but this isn't it. This is something far more interesting...  
Spoilers: Everything up to the season four finale. This takes place after the season four finale, Raincoats and Recipes. Because that's how it makes the most sense.

WARNING. THIS FIC IS NC-17, IF YOU ARE UNDER 17, OR OFFENDED BY ADULT CONTENT THEN DO NOT PROCEED.

Human Velvet

The world had stopped revolving. She was sure of it. Right now she wasn't very sure of much of anything else. Rory Gilmore is a bright girl, with a good head on her shoulders, at least usually. But lately things have been spinning out of control. Which is ironic as to her it seemed the world had stopped spinning completely. She was so firm in the belief, despite the fact she was feeling light headed and dizzy. She clung to it like a child to a security blanket, like a drowning person to a life ring, like her mother to a cupcake. For right now, it was the only thing that made sense.

She didn't know how she got here, to this point, to this place, anything. It was like there was some sort of sci-fi rip in the space time continuum that landed her in an alternate dimension. That was the only excuse she could come up with for why she was in Terminal City of all places. She knew she was in Terminal City, beyond a shadow of a doubt, she saw the Space Needle rising high above the buildings in the distance. Once a glorious monument in the heart of Seattle, it was now as dank and decrepit as the rest of the city. The pulse had truly bought this part of the nation to it's knees.

She didn't have time to consider this, or even wonder how she managed to get within the secured confines of the toxic wasteland, and the thought of becoming sick flitted through her mind only once. She had other, better, harder things to think about as she was pressed against a cool brick wall with ferocity. She could feel the restrained strength in his movements, hinting at the superior creature he really was. His body was hard angles and soft curves all at once, the muscles rippling under the black t-shirt he was wearing.

She swore she heard him growl, low in his throat, as his hazel eyes penetrated her blues ones. She'd been told she had unnatural eyes, eyes that glowed with the depths of the oceans, the burbling excitement of the streams, the grace of the waterfalls. She'd believed them, until now. For if there was anyone with unnatural eyes it had to be him, they just couldn't make eyes that beautiful. Constantly changing and swirling, the lighter hues of yellows and light greens, the darker greens and grays, they were the window to his troubled soul.

And his body, as it pressed tightly against hers, could only be that of a Greek god. He was too good to be true, too good for this earth. He was heaven sent, for he surely must be an angel, albeit a fallen one, as he crushed his mouth against hers. She responded in kind, greedily sucking his plush lower lip into her mouth. They were only kissing, and already she felt a verve she'd never felt with Dean, not even during the throes of passion as they'd made love in her bed, while he was still married. This was so different, so much better. It made tingles shoot up and down her spine, her legs turned to jelly and she was grateful for the wall behind her to hold her up.

His hands moved from her shoulders to her hips as their tongues dueled for the dominant position. She moved her hands to the sides of his face, tilting his head to allow her better access. Desire pooled deep in her belly, warm and glowing, spreading throughout her body. She was wound up as tight as a violin string and damn if she didn't want to make some beautiful music. She shifted her hips, making herself more comfortable, feeling the evidence of his arousal against her stomach. She smiled in the kiss. This was good, he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

Which is why she was so shocked when he pulled away. His hands remained on her hips, but he took a step back, his hazel eyes boring into hers. He licked his lips. "Rory," he stated simply.

"Alec," she responded more breathlessly than she'd have liked.

His mouth twisted into his trademark smirk and his eyes sparkled with mischief. The next words to come from his mouth is what shocked her most. "Tag," he said with the smirk still in place. "You're it." With that he turned and ran away.

She knew he wanted to be caught, if he didn't want to be caught he'd have blurred, not ran at a normal speed. A predatory grin crossed her face as her legs regained their feeling. She pushed off the wall and gave chase. Her sneakers pounding against the broken pavement, the sounds echoing loudly against the buildings. She chased him down streets, past startled transgenics, through alley's, jumping garbage cans and wood piles with as much ease as he did. She saw him disappear into the door of a building, and she followed without hesitation. She could hear his footsteps pounding up the stairs over her head, and she followed.

He stopped at the fourth floor, and she heard a door open and shut, signaling he'd went into the hallway. She followed through the door just in time to see him disappear through a door at the end of the hall. When she reached it, it was shut. She tugged on the door handle, but he had locked it. She took two steps back, gauged the door, aimed and kicked. The door flew inwards, still on it's hinges, but barely. He stood in the middle of the room, surveying the damage appreciatively. "Now I'll have to get that fixed you know," he stated simply, the smirk beginning to return.

"Who cares," she said, panting for breath, "It'll be worth it." She threw herself at him, and he caught her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, he had his hands at the small of her back. She tugged his black t-shirt up and off of his wide chest. She splayed her fingers over it, feeling the sensuality of his skin. It was like hard steel covered with soft velvet. His muscles rippled beneath her fingers as he tugged her shirt over her head. She was braless, which stuck her as odd, but she didn't care as his hands explored her newly exposed skin. She ground her hips against his and he groaned.

"Rory," he looked down at her. "Don't start something you can't finish."

She slid from him in response, her hands moving to the waist of his jeans, deftly undoing the button. "Oh, I can finish it," she purred seductively. She could hear him purring, actually no. He wasn't purring, he was emitting another strange noise as he leaned to kiss her. It was almost a beeping noise.

The alarm revived Rory from her dream rudely, and Rory jolted awake, feeling as though she'd just fallen from mid-air into her bed. She was out of breath and disoriented, and the alarm was still squelching in her ear. Finally she realized where she was and what was happening and slapped the off button. She leaned back against the pillows still catching her breath. She expected the last vestiges of sleep and her wonderful dream to slip away like a misty fog, but they stayed as vivid and realistic as they were when she was dreaming. She could still see the haunting hazel eyes, his voice was echoing in her ears, her fingertips burned from touching his tanned skin, and she could still taste him. Once she'd become accustomed to these sensations, and the fact they didn't seem to be going away, she slid from her bed and padded across her floor to her closet to get ready for the day.


End file.
